Some Kind of Peace
by AnnieXMuller
Summary: Post-Ep/Filler for Always. Was it a hard, desperate kiss to make her feel alive for a night with the nearest man she could reach? Or was it real to her? It was real to him. She needed to say it, not just fly at him, her hands anchoring him while her lips claimed his. He needed words from her.
1. Chapter 1

**Quick AN: This started life as a blind item inspired fic, written in April. It disappeared from this site a couple of months back, but I decided it was time to upload it again. I've revised it a little, merging it with another older fic called 'Release', so that it is more in canon with the events of 'Always'. Finally, I received a prompt via Tumblr. "Slow dance". I've worked that into this. Thank you to the Anon who sent the prompt.  
**

* * *

_"Love come, light up the shadows, _

_Let the beauty of you enter in._

_ I have hungered for a tender touch,_

_ A long and lonely time." _

_~Sarah McLachlan  
_

* * *

Not since Los Angeles had Beckett felt _this _emotionally drained. Even then she had kept the majority of her feelings suppressed, buried so deep they were _almost_ completely obscured, allowing Castle to see just the tip of everything she kept shrouded from view. In L.A she had allowed just a brief moment of relief from her pain, when she had let just a few tears fall once she was safe behind the closed doors of her hotel bedroom. Safe, away from his gaze, from his voice, from him. Safe from the need.

Now, tonight, in his loft, her hair clinging to her face, drops of water dripping down her cheeks, her back, her clothing soaked through, she couldn't keep it inside any longer - and she didn't care.

The only thing she cared about was him.

When she leaned forward to claim his lips again, when he didn't lean in to meet her, she knew she had lost the control, knew she had to wait for him to forgive her, accept her. She had to wait for _him_ now.

The grief she felt, now that her mother's case had been brought front-and-center again, was clamping around her heart, and she couldn't keep it from showing in her eyes. As invisible as her pain may have been to others, to Castle she was an open book of sorrow and regret. She knew her smile didn't quite reach her eyes, eyes that were shining with unshed tears, tears that were just moments from falling again. Falling. Again. This time, he was there to keep her from crashing, from burning, if only he would reach for her. God, she was falling. Down, apart, completely. Why wouldn't he reach for her?

Her mom's death, her shooting, the knowledge he had been keeping her from investigating the case to keep her alive. It all threatened to overwhelm her again. And it would - if she let it.

But not tonight. Tonight she had forgiven him, and her only hope was that he could forgive her for keeping her own secret for so long.

And when he finally took a step forward and pulled her into his arms, into a supportive embrace, she didn't resist him.

His hurt and anger had subsided, and he could no longer resist her.

"Castle, I..." She what? With her body pressed up against his and her head resting against his shoulder, she really didn't know where that sentence was going. She needed to say _something _but everything swirling around in her head seemed too emotional. She had so many words she needed to speak out loud, and a traitorous mouth that refused to let them out.

While she battled silently in his arms, waging a war with herself, he rubbed her back, small, comforting circles, and he held her close. His touch, each sweep of his fingertips against her, each increase in pressure of his palms upon her, brought her back to herself and calmed the storm within. "You need to sit down?" His voice had lost the hard edge it held earlier.

She almost smiled against his shoulder. "No," she replied quietly.

His hands continued to soothe her, alternating between running up and down her spine, and rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. "Need a drink?"

She almost chuckled at his need to help her. She didn't need alcohol, that would only add to the fuzziness inside her head, would only blur her vision when she needed to see clearly. "No," she replied, her voice little more than a sigh.

He finally realized the right question to ask. "What do you need then?"

She could hear the unspoken _How can we make this right? _The ending to her unfinished sentence came to her then, the thoughts she had spoken as she had crossed the threshold to his home still felt like the only words to say. It was want. It was need. "I need you."

His hand stilled, and he held her tighter for a moment. He was going to have to get used to hearing such honesty from her, and quickly.

"In what way?" His voice cracked as he struggled to get the words out. A hard, desperate kiss to make her feel alive for a night with the nearest man she could reach? Or was it real to her? It was real to him. She needed to say it, not just fly at him, her hands anchoring him while her lips claimed his. He needed words from her.

"Every way," she replied. "Always."

His hands came around to her shoulders, and he pulled back to look at her, holding her in place while his eyes found hers. She held his gaze, the love in his eyes no longer scary like it had been in that hotel room a year ago. This time, she knew, when she escaped to a bedroom she would take him with her.

She reached a finger to trace his lips, lips he was keeping her from. The intimacy of the gesture sparked something within him. His eyes flashed with need as lightening lit up the room, and in that moment she saw the acceptance in them. In that moment she knew she was forgiven.

She brought her hand over and laid it upon his, her cold hands warming quickly as the heat radiated off his. She gently pried his fingers from her shoulder, and intertwined them with hers. He dropped his hand off her other shoulder, and followed silently as she led him to his bedroom. She knew exactly where she wanted to be, and she'd be damned if she was going to wait for him to take her there.

He tugged her back, moments before she stepped into his office, and pressed his lips to hers, no longer denying her of the action she was craving. She squeezed the hand she held in hers, and opened her mouth to him, her senses overwhelmed by the feel, taste, and smell of him.

They separated long enough to stumble through his office, his hands struggling to rid her of her jacket while they maneuvered around furniture to reach his bedroom. She shrugged out of it and left it draped over his office chair, before he tugged her into the bedroom, and pushed her back, pressing her body up against the door so that it closed soundly behind her.

She rose up on her toes, her back flat against the door, to meet his mouth as he moved forward to kiss her.  
She didn't want to think anymore; she just wanted to feel. Opening her mouth as his lips connected with hers, her tongue met his instantly, pressing hard together, seeking entry into the others mouth.

His hands moved over her wet top, wet pants, touching her in places he had never been permitted before. His lips tasted her, licking the lingering rain off her skin and replacing it with moisture from his lips and tongue, over her jaw, down her neck, her own lips, every inch of skin. His barely-controlled exploration of her body sent surges of heat through her, and she felt her back slide down the hard wood door, her legs struggling to keep her up as shivers of need and want, and thoughts of _fuck me now_ engulfed her brain. She felt him grasping at her hips, raising her up again and holding her steady. She gripped at his own hips, pulling his body hard against hers, making his own clothes damp in the process, feeling his need straining against the unforgiving denim between them.

He was so warm, felt so right, against her.

She moaned against his mouth as his lips moved with hers. Open-mouthed and hot, she hadn't been kissed like this before. Never had a kiss been so desperate, nor had so many years of tension behind it. Never had she wanted anyone quite like this.

Lips, and tongues, and hands. Cold clothes and warm bodies. Desperate and wild, and in need of release.

Her hands curled at his waist, holding tight, while his held her hips, clenching around the smooth material of her top, tugging her closer. Yet his lips remained soft against hers, his kisses desperate but not bruising, not rough. She sighed into his mouth as the contentment washed over her. In his kiss, the way he held her, she felt exactly what she meant to him - and she felt forgiven.

No more anger, no more pain, none of that was allowed to destroy this moment for her. Just him, the warmth and love radiating from him, and her, giving that warmth and love back to him.

His lips broke away from hers, and she felt a chill run through her from the loss, but it lasted only a few seconds. The warmth returned when his lips connected with her neck, kissing, sucking, nipping his way down to her collarbone, back up to her jaw, her earlobe. With just his lips on her skin she could push aside everything currently darkening her soul, and find the light again.

When his lips brushed against her chest, she heard his breathing change. His last kiss had pressed into her skin just a little too high to feel it, but he remembered. He pulled back, and in his eyes she saw his heart breaking all over again, she saw the pain that moment had caused. Their foreheads met and downcast eyes focused on his fingers as they deftly undid the buttons of her top and pulled the material aside.

He breathed deeply, the urge to kiss her scar almost overwhelming. Her hands covered his, letting him touch it, allowing him to feel her heart beating strong beneath. She held him in place for a moment, one hand on his, the other moving up to trail down his cheek.

She tugged him forward as she stepped back. Step by step, she held his gaze as she moved backwards towards his bed. He stopped her just briefly to capture her lips again, halting her movements for just a moment when the contact caught her by surprise. Neither broke the kiss as she began to step back again, and they fumbled slightly, their movements just a little awkward, as they fought to keep contact with one another.

The back of her thighs connected with the side of the bed, their lips separating, and she sat, and then fell back against the mattress, pulling him down with her as gracefully as both could manage. One of his thighs fell between her legs, and she pushed herself up against it, denim scraping denim, her body desperate for contact, desperate for release.

He carefully pushed her hair away from her face, gently arranging it to where he wouldn't accidentally tug on it, and he smiled as he felt her pressing against his thigh. He felt her thrust up slightly, and as she did so he pushed down, giving her a little added friction where she craved it.

She raised herself up slightly, just enough for her lips to make contact with his again. Her fist closed around his shirt, holding him close to her. Her gaze shifted to the material clenched in her hand. Damn, they were wearing too much clothing.

He saw her frowning at his shirt, smiled as he eased off her, placed his feet back on the floor, and pulled her to her feet, her hands enclosed by his as he tugged her up off the mattress.

Her wet clothes were peeled off her warming body; his fingers deftly undid the remaining buttons of her shirt, slipping each one through each small slit in the fabric, careful not to pop a single one. His warm fingertips brushed the shirt off her shoulders, dragged it down her arms, until she was free of the material that had been clinging to her skin, and creating goosebumps on her arms.

Standing in front of the bed, they worked as team to rid the other of material barriers. Her fingernails scraped along his skin as she pushed his shirt down his arms, back, letting it fall softly to the ground behind him.

He took her in, his eyes roaming over her breasts, his hands soon following. His palms grazed over the lace barely concealing her hardened nipples beneath. He could feel them, but he needed to see them. Needed to see her. She pressed her chest out as his palms swept across her nipples, forcing them harder into his hand, desperate for the contact. He reached one hand behind her, flicked the clasp of her bra, released it. She skimmed her fingertips across her shoulders, making just enough contact to push the straps down. He ran a finger down between her cleavage, brushing over her scar, and hooked it around the small piece of material between the cups. With gentle tugs, he removed it from her body, and let it fall to her feet.

His head dipped, and she felt the hot wetness of his breath against her skin, before his lips found her scarred skin again, kissing it gently, kissing it better. Both palms cupped her breasts, pressing them together, his lips moving to the seam created between them. She arched into his hands when his thumbs began brushing over her nipples, teasing the peaks, and flooding her with a new warmth.

She was shaking in her need for him as she kicked off her sodden shoes, used to toes to rid her feet of the saturated socks she had worn that day. In bare feet now, she took advantage of the height difference, nipping playfully at his jaw, scraping her tongue down his neck, to his chin that was roughened with just a hint of stubble. He had clearly shaved before attending Alexis' graduation, and she felt the change in texture beneath her tongue, enough to be noticeable, not enough to cause her discomfort.

The ends of her jeans were caked with mud; without the heels of her boots her feet were engulfed by her pants, and she felt the thickness of the sodden dirt at her heels, her toes. If he was concerned at all about the hard-wood floors, he didn't let it show. He tugged gently at the dome of her jeans, dragging the zipper down with his thumb and forefinger, pushed the tight material from her hips, her own hands brushing his as she aided him.

"How do you get these things on?" He asked in amazement as he realized just how snug her jeans really were.

She just drew her bottom lip between her teeth and shrugged. There were certain mysteries about being a woman that he didn't need solved. She stepped out of the jeans, standing before him in drenched underwear, the wetness a mix of the rain and her arousal.

Then he stopped, and drank her in with his eyes, moving up her legs, her underwear, her flat stomach and soft, round breasts, until they met her eyes - and he smiled, happiness laced with arousal, wonder laced with disbelief. She reached a hand up to his face, cupped his cheek, and her own smile lifted her features, lit up her eyes.

Yes. This really was happening. Finally.

He committed her to memory, with his eyes, with the tips of his fingers, absorbing every curve, every flat plane, every contour, every straight line. She stood before him, her hands now at her sides, allowing him to feel her imperfections, find every scar, her tattoo. He didn't speak, his discoveries made apparent by a change in his breathing, or a touch lingering a little longer in one spot, before continuing the exploration.

His lips found hers, distracting her while his fingers slipped between her panties and her skin, and they found a rhythm amidst the desperation, his fingers teasing her, ever-tightening circles increasing the pleasure building within her. She snaked her other arm around his neck, her fingernails pressing so hard into his skin she was sure they would leave small crescent-shaped scars on his skin, marking him as hers forever.

He broke the kiss, and dipped lower still, dropping to his knees. His lips grazed her navel, kissed a hot, wet trail down to the waistband of her panties. She stepped a leg wider to the side, and he curled his hands around her thighs, kneading her soft skin, keeping her from bringing them together again. He pressed his mouth to the lace, dragged his lips down, and through the material he pressed his tongue against the small, already engorged, bundle of nerves, the stimulation intensified by the rough texture of the lace grazing her, and the wetness seeping through.

Her hands dropped to the top of his head, her fingers running through his short hair, holding him to her. He tongued her through the material, dragging his tongue up, across, around.

Her heady, musky scent surrounded him, and when he pushed the material to the side, a low guttural moan escaped his lips. It would be so easy to pull her down to his lap and push inside her, lose himself in the feel of her surrounding him, all wet and warm, her muscles clenching around him, pulling him deeper. He resisted, instead teasing her with just the tip of his tongue, drawing tight circles around her, before dipping down to sweep more of her need up and across, her clit slick with her own arousal.

She shuddered under his touch, her hips bucking forward, desperate for more. His wet tongue moving across her slickness; she might orgasm from this alone. Her body had been tingling since she stepped across his threshold and sealed her lips to his. The first kiss had sent arousal coursing through her, arousal that had pooled in her panties the moment he had accepted her and pushed his tongue into her open mouth.  
With each nip of his lips against her neck, each hot kiss to her lips, she had felt the electricity between them, felt her cool skin growing warmer, felt that throbbing between her legs.  
The moment he had tugged her panties to the side and touched his tongue to her she had almost jumped out of her skin, she was so overly sensitized, so ready for him. She could feel the tension growing, feel the heat rising, and god if he didn't fill her soon she might cry out in frustration.

"Castle, please," she rasped between short, ragged, breaths.

He didn't pause; With his tongue hard against her he continued to inflict the ever decreasing circles of her undoing upon her, winding her tighter and tighter. She closed her eyes when a hand left her thigh, the anticipation of what might come next leaving her breathless.

And then she felt it: The tips of two of his fingers swirling through her arousal, brushing against her opening.

She moved her hips with his fingers, increasing the speed, and the pressure he was applying. When he entered her with two long fingers, he didn't thrust them up swiftly, but instead slipped them inside her slowly, exploring her inner-walls the deeper they went. She clenched around him, holding him inside, scared he might pull out and leave her empty and cold.

His fingers curled as he felt the change in texture within her, and pressed into her. He didn't thrust, choosing instead to use pressure and vibration to stoke the fire inside her.

Hot, desperate, desire began to spread through her, and she felt the tension build, steadily reaching its peak. Her head fell back, and her eyes slammed shut, as wave after wave of release washed over her.

He stood, and caught her before she fell, an arm around her waist, her body pulled flush against his, and she smiled sheepishly at him. There were few men who could make her buckle at the knees, and just one, it seemed, who could make them give out on her entirely.

Her legs shook under his gaze, from the arousal in his eyes, and from her orgasm. She settled back to sit on the bed, no longer able to trust her own body to keep her upright. She lifted her hips as his nimble fingers hooked beneath the waistband of her panties, and ran them down her long legs, casting them aside. Completely naked before him, she shimmied along the width of his bed and beckoned for him to come to her; His own arousal was evident in the tenting of his boxers, and she wanted to touch him too.

He eased himself onto his knees on the bed and covered her body with his. He nudged her legs apart with his, until he was nestled between them, pressing against her core through the thin material of his boxers. She lifted her hips, desperate to feel him harder against her, desperate for more.

Suddenly his lips and hands were everywhere, trailing wet, hot kisses from her lips, to her neck, to her chest, and beyond. His hands roamed her highly sensitized skin, exploring, memorizing, and then going back to the places that made her squirm just a little more, moan just a little louder. She kissed him back, everywhere that her lips could connect with, and her hands ran up and down his back, tugging him closer and clinging to him.

She moved her hands lower, working on his boxers next. He helped her, and soon there was nothing between them. Skin against skin, everywhere. When just the tip of his hard length rubbed against her clit, she bucked her hips, a low moan leaving her lips.

He was so close to entering her, forcing her brain to kick in, and responsible Beckett to take over. She pushed at his shoulders, met his eyes. "Protection," she said softly, almost hating the fact saying it made her feel like a teenager. It wasn't that she didn't trust him. Of course she did. But they'd never had _that_ discussion before, and now wasn't the time. And even though she was on the pill it wasn't enough for her right now.

Unfazed, he shifted slightly, opened the small bedside drawer and reached inside. He grinned as he held the foil packaging up, and she smiled as she saw the small picture of a cherry on the back. "You wish," she muttered.

He feigned hurt.

"Maybe next time," she replied, biting down on her bottom lip to keep from grinning. She did, after all, do this one thing with ice cubes that she was dying to torture him with.

Right now, their first time together, wasn't the time for anything even remotely kinky.

Before she could aid him, he swiftly had the protection in place, and shrugged at her small chuckle. "You ready?"

She smiled at his words. He was so incredibly sweet sometimes. Instead of answering with the same kind of concern he had, she merely replied, "You tell me," and thrust her pelvis up until her wetness couldn't be denied.

He slid a hand down between them, and caressed her clit. As he circled her, he entered her, surprising her by how easily he slid in. He pushed in until he was fully encased by her, and he just stayed there for a few seconds, reveling in the moment, in the feel of her contacting around him, and in the soft sighs leaving her parted, swollen, wet lips.

Kate. Naked beneath him, joined with him in the most intimate of acts. Four years he had waited for this moment, and he was going to absorb every second of it; He would never forget this night.

She raised up and claimed his lips, kissing him with fervor, and then rotated her hips, urging him to move. If he wasn't going to, well she was more than happy to do all the work, but one of them had to move soon. She needed to feel him thrusting within her, she needed the friction to ease the throbbing need consuming her.

He continued to kiss her as he withdrew, almost completely, before thrusting back in.

She moaned softly at the feel of him filling her, writhed as he hit places that brought maximum pleasure, and all the while meeting each thrust, rotating her hips, clenching her inner muscles.

Her eyes never broke contact with his, and the intimacy almost broke her, almost brought tears to her eyes.

For all the pain they had both caused one another, this moment held only love. Everything was forgotten completely and cast aside as they connected, melded, became so consumed by one another that nothing else mattered.

She pushed her heels firmly into the mattress, as she met his thrusts, held him tight for a moment, before releasing her muscles, releasing him. They found momentum, the frenzied pace quickening, bringing her ever closer to release.

And God he had skills.

He rotated his own hips as he filled her, so that he touched almost every part of her, leaving no part of her unexplored.

They were keeping it somewhat under control, both clinging to the last thin fibers of restraint. The ice cubes, the more interesting positions, the complete and utter freedom that comes with letting go fully, that could happen next time. Or the time after that. She did worry briefly, her lust-addled mind veering off for a moment, and hope that he didn't think her boring or unadventurous in bed. She'd blow his mind – and other parts of him – next time.

She held his body close to hers as his thrusts became shorter. His eyes closed, and he buried his head into her shoulder. He was close. She raised a leg off the bed and threw it over his hips, her heel pressing into the soft skin of his ass. The new position of her leg allowed him to slip even deeper than he had been, eliciting gasps of pleasure from her as he hit places within her that had been denied for so long. Her heel against him pulled his pelvis impossibly close to hers, and held him there so he was unable to pull out completely.

Dragging her nails down his side, over his waist, between them, she slipped a finger to her clit. He groaned at the feel of her body responding around him as she touched herself, and she bit her lip as it brought them both tantalizingly close to the edge.

The pleasure within her built, until she could barely breathe and was sure her heart might stop. And when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, her release came. She stilled as it hit, before her body shuddered and twitched as the waves of her second orgasm washed over her.

He hadn't stopped as she had come, his own release too close. As her muscles had contracted around him, gripping him tighter, her body shaking from the pleasure, it all took him over the edge and he couldn't hold back anymore. He pressed his face harder into the slick, warm, flushed skin of her shoulder - and he stilled then, his release pumping into her.

For a moment the only sounds in his loft were of heavy breathing as they remained joined, slumped against one another. She clung to him, her body still shuddering slightly, both from her release and the lingering cold.

They lay in a sweaty heap; sated and exhausted he lay sprawled over her while they recovered. She ran her fingers though his hair as she regained control over her body. When her legs no longer felt like jello, she stretched them out, felt her knee crack softly, and she winced.

He raised his head, and propped himself up, having somewhat recovered. He smiled at her. "I felt that. You okay?"

She laughed. "Getting old, it seems."

His chuckled at her response, before groaning slightly now that the pleasure had abated and the pain was registering. "Actually now that you mention it." He rolled off her onto his back, and stretched out his own legs. "How about we try a different position next time."

She rolled from her back onto her side to face him, her naked body stretched long across his bed, and grinned happily. "You're awfully confident in assuming there will be a next time."

He turned to look at her, his eyes wide in horror, but the moment he saw the playful teasing in her eyes he fell onto his back again, rubbing his hands over his face in relief. "That wasn't even remotely funny."

"Oh no?" She asked. "Your expression was _hilarious_."

He shook his head at her, smiling as he did so, and excused himself to clean up a little in the bathroom.

While he was away, she moved to lay down the length of the bed, pulled the sheets back and snuggled underneath, making herself comfortable. She arranged a pillow she had claimed for herself, and sighed into it as it enveloped her head like a fluffy cloud. His bed was dangerously comfortable.

He exited the bathroom and she watched him through hooded lids as he took her in, nestled under the sheets like that side of the bed was hers. He would happily give it to her. He wanted that, her, in his bed, at his side, her face the last thing he saw before falling asleep, the first thing he saw upon awaking. He wanted it _forever_. Still, he had to tease her just a little. "You're awfully presumptuous there, _Kate_, making yourself comfortable like you're spending the night."

Her eyes flew open, but her surprise didn't last long. She saw the teasing grin on his face and realized payback really was a bitch. "Come back to bed, Castle," she told him, beckoning for him to join her.

He didn't hesitate. She smiled as he bounded across the bed, somehow missing her legs in the process, and got under the sheets beside her. He opened his arms to her, and she rolled into them, pressing her side against his, her head having left the pillow to rest on his chest, her arm slung low across his waist.

"Well that effectively took my mind off everything," she admitted softly, her tone more serious than it had been a moment ago.

He nodded, and dropped a light kiss to the top of her head.

"We started something here tonight," she told him before he could speak. "Something good."

"It's a relief to know we're both currently on the same page," he admitted to her, his breath gently moving her hair, warming her forehead as it made contact with her skin. "I love you, Kate."

She shifted her head slightly, kissed his chest. "I love you, Castle."

He smiled at her words, pulling her closer, inhaling her scent. His body froze against hers, and the smile left his face, as her next words filtered through the post-orgasmic haze surrounding him.

"I resigned today."

* * *

**_Love Come_ lyrics by Sarah McLachlan**


	2. Chapter 2

_"You call, and I come running_,  
_I can sense the flood before it breaks_.  
_And I'd do anything to dry your tears_,  
_To let you know you're safe."_

_~Sarah McLachlan_

* * *

Kate awoke slowly, languidly. It wasn't a cellphone's shrill ring nor a loud obnoxious alarm tone pulling her from sleep, forcing her awake with persistent chimes, demanding that she open her eyes and face what was coming.

It wasn't like most mornings.

Her body took its time coming back into awareness, gently lulled out of R-rated dreams by the warmth encasing her and the familiar scent surrounding her. She sighed softly, feeling serene. A peacefulness had descended upon her, diffused over and through her to settle under her skin. It all felt so warm and familiar and right. It all felt like...

Castle.

_The dreams had been memories, salacious snippets of the evening's events. _

During the night they had shifted, but he had never lost his hold on her. Now, on her side, facing away from him, he lay pressed up against her back, his body curving with hers. His arms were wrapped around her, and she placed a hand over his, smiling as her touch caused him to inhale deeply in his sleep. He exhaled against her, the fine hairs on her arms raised, her body shivering in arousal, as his breath swept across her skin.

It felt so natural to wake up in his arms, felt like something she should have started doing a long time ago. Even cuffed to him, so many months prior, it had taken her drugged brain several long seconds to realize the situation was wrong, that their surroundings were not the last thing she remembered. There was nothing now to wipe the smile off her face, nothing except her admission - if one of them mentioned it. But had he even heard her words?

She shifted in his arms to face him. She had only wanted to watch him sleep, to take a moment to absorb this peaceful quiet version of the roguish, flippant, verbose man she loved. She misjudged how close she was and the tip of her nose bumped his, the contact waking him.

"Morning," he rasped, his voice deep and rough. He blinked a few times as he tried to focus on her face, her head resting on the pillow so close to his. As she came into focus his eyes lit up with the realization it hadn't been a dream.

"Morning," she replied, smiling at him. She wrapped a leg over his, pulling their bodies closer together, until her warm, soft, skin was making contact with his everywhere possible. Pelvis to pelvis, she rubbed against him. She was still slick, still damp from the night before. She felt him twitch against her, rising to press against her, becoming firmer with each slight shift of her hips.

His eyes darkened, his pupils dilating, as the sight of her, the feel of her, took over his brain. He was awake now. "We uh… We had sex last night." He had intended to be articulate, and for his voice to hold more than a hint of a growl. He realized, in embarrassment, he had failed on both accounts.

She couldn't suppress the soft laugh that escaped her lips as she listened to him try to hold it together, the awe in his voice and wonder in his eyes more amusing to her than it should be.

And then, in the blink of an eye, the wonder and awe disappeared and he turned serious. "And you resigned."

Her laughter subsided, and her smile faded; her lips were drawn tight and the light left her eyes.

He hadn't mentioned it last night; after the words had left her mouth she had settled against him, looking more relaxed and at peace than he had ever seen her. He had wanted to shake her, demand an explanation, and refuse to let her sleep until she had caught him up. He had done none of those things. Instead, he had listened silently as her breathing evened out, and her body relaxed completely against his. He had let her fall asleep, her body draped over his, but with morning came renewed courage, and a need for answers.

"I did."

"What happened, Kate?"

She rolled onto her back, and out of his arms. Resisting the urge to roll onto her side and away from him completely, she fixed her gaze on the ceiling, studying the painted surface above her. "Maddox. My Mom. This job. I was an inch away from death, _again_, and it was in that moment that I understood what I had almost lost. What I _would_ lose, if I fell." She tugged the sheet up to cover her chest, almost pulled it up to her chin, the admissions making her feel vulnerable. It wasn't armor, but she felt a little less exposed.

"If you _fell_?"

She turned her head to meet his confused gaze. The fear he was feeling evident in his eyes. "Maddox threw me off a building," she began slowly, watching his eyes grow wider at her words. "I caught the ledge with my hands. Ryan saved-" She shook her head at how wrong that sentence almost was. "Ryan may have hauled me back up, but it was _you_ who saved me." She smiled, knowing it held more sadness than joy. "I know how it sounds, Castle, especially coming from me, but I felt your hand on my mine, keeping me clinging to that ledge; I swear I heard your voice, and your words forced strength into my battered body. You became all I could see, all I could think of. You kept me holding on, gripping that ledge, until I couldn't possibly hold on any longer, and it was just enough time for Ryan to reach me, pull me back up."

Castle watched her silently as she spoke, listening while she opened her heart so completely to him, afraid of speaking and breaking the spell.

"I knew then that I had to step back, away from the precipice, away from the rabbit hole. If I'm going to do this, if I'm going to stop and put it all behind me, if I'm going to start my life and finally begin to live, then I need to do so with you. Because, Castle, you are all I need, you are all I want." Her voice had faltered as she had spoken the final sentence, such admissions still difficult for her to articulate.

He reached for her and drew her body back to him, pressing a kiss to her temple once she had settled. She sighed against his chest, but it sounded like defeat to his ears. "That doesn't mean quitting your job, Kate," he said into her hair.

"I'm not sure you can convince me to go back."

"That won't stop me from trying," he admitted softly. "I almost lost you, Kate, but what you do every day at the Twelfth, it's more than just a job to you."

"I _did_ lose you, and you had every right to walk away," she told him sadly. "I thought I was indestructible; I thought I would take them out one by one, and be the only person left standing. But Maddox, God, Castle, I didn't stand a chance."

"He got away."

She nodded. "He left me hanging off the side of the building, and disappeared - and it's okay."

"But he's still out there. Your life is still in danger."

"Can we not..." She swallowed thickly, tears burning her eyes, threatening to fall. "Not now. Please." She inhaled a shaky breath, her body shuddering as she exhaled it against his chest.

His lips pressed to the side of her head, and he breathed the words_ I'm sorry_ against her skin.

"Last night... Castle, please don't think it was nothing. Please don't think I only did it to feel alive," she told him. "I hate the circumstances that brought me to your door, and because of that there will always be a sadness surrounding last night's events." She raised her head and pressed a kiss to his lips before he could respond. Now that this was something they could do, she was going to claim those lips every chance she could. When she broke the kiss, she added, breathlessly, "I like a little bit of sadness; it keeps things real."

She was alive, and that needed to be enough for now. Keeping her alive was something they would discuss later, after he had spent hours alone, losing years off his own life, trying to figure it all out.

He had her now, in his arms, in his bedroom, where the world couldn't reach her, and despite it all he was still a little in awe of the fact he wasn't dreaming, that it wasn't all just another frustrated fantasy after a long day at the precinct with her.

She composed herself, brushing aside the sadness, taking comfort from her surroundings. "I'm going to shower, Castle," she told him in a voice that made it appear as though her getting out of his bed in the morning was an everyday occurrence. She pushed the sheet back, rolled out of his arms, and left the bed, completely naked. She knew he was watching her as she walked towards his bathroom, so she threw a little extra sashay into her hips.

"You're killing me," he groaned from the bed.

She turned at the entrance to his bathroom, and smiled back at him. "You're more than welcome to join me."

He was out of the bed and behind her at lightening speed, his hands pulling her back, his warm body pressed against hers, his fingers brushing her hair aside, his mouth open and hot on her neck. She tilted her head slightly, allowing him better access, and sighed at the feel of his lips against her skin.

He was already hard against her, pressing between her thighs from behind. It would be so easy to shift her hips a little so that he could slip inside her, his hands and lips on her now only adding to the damp feeling between her legs.

She laid her hands over his, where they rested on her hips, and stilled him. "Shower, Castle."

He urged her forward until they were in the bathroom, and closed the door behind them. He leaned back against the door, pulling her with him. Spinning her around in his arms, he then shifted their positions so that they faced one another with her back now to the door. He pressed hard against her, his lips trailing kisses up her neck, to her ear, where he murmured, "I don't think I can go any further than this door."

She let him nudge her legs apart, raise one up to hook around his upper thigh, felt him press against her.

Her breasts were pressed tight against his chest, and he glanced down, his eyes lingering on her scar in the harsh unforgiving light of the bathroom.

He looked up to see her own focus now also on her chest, having followed his eyes. He pulled back then, unhooking her leg and letting it slide down to the floor, looking only in her eyes. "You know, you don't talk about your scar; we don't discuss it."

"Thank you for acknowledging it last night," she told him.

"I needed to kiss it."

She smiled sadly.

"Make it better," he added, his tone somber.

"It is better," she promised him. "I'm better. It's there, it's a part of me, and while I admit I cover it with make-up sometimes, I promise I won't ever hide it from you."

He dipped his head, his hands trailing over her skin to her breasts, her fingertips grazing her nipples, sending ripples of pleasure through her. His palms cupped her breasts, just the right size for his hands, and his thumbs continued to caress her nipples. With each sweep of his thumb, each light squeeze of his hands, she pressed more firmly against him, urging him on, needing more. His palms loosened over her breasts, until his fingertips meet between them, lightly brushing over her scar, feeling each bump and indentation.

She heard him sigh sadly as his hands explored her healed wounds, and she moved a hand onto the top of his head, running her fingers through his hair, letting him know it was okay. He dipped his head lower as she massaged his scalp, until his lips made contact with the scar. He dropped a soft, loving kiss onto it. She dropped her head back against the smooth wood of the bathroom door, and gazed up at the ceiling as she bit her lip to keep from trembling. She had cried because of that scar too much; she would not cry now.

His lips trailed down her torso, and she glanced down to see he had dropped to his knees. He was focusing attention on the scar on her side, healing it with his fingertips, and his lips, and his tongue.

On his knees now, before her, she could imagine where this was heading. As much as she desperately needed him to just move just a little more center, just a little lower, they would never move this away from the door if she let him. And she really needed a shower right now.

She reached down, tapped his shoulder, demanded his attention. "Hey," she said gently. When he tore his eyes off the scar on her side, she gestured for him to stand. "You okay?"

He stood, placed his hands on her hips, caressing her waist with his thumbs. "Any more?"

She smiled at his concern. "Apart from the usual battle scars from growing up, and taking down bad guys, just the one surgery scar, and the one bullet hole." She shivered slightly, not from talking about that day in the cemetery, but from the exquisite feeling of his thumbs lightly brushing her skin, her body so sensitive she was almost ticklish. "How about you, Castle?" She asked, smiling mischievously. "Let me explore your scars."

He stepped back and did a little turn for her. "Nothing significant externally. Mine are all internal."

A short, mirthless laugh escaped her lips. "Yeah, and thankfully we've covered our emotional wounds in depth many times before." _Or we'll never leave this bathroom door_, she thought humorlessly. Tapping his side, she said, "Turn back, I think I saw something."

"Oh?" He turned, facing away from her, but he watched her in the mirror as she checked out his ass. "Like what you see?"

Kate chuckled, a real, happy laugh. "You betcha."

He turned back and reached for her, pulling her against him. Her arms wrapped around him until her palms rested flat against his back, pressed against his shoulder blades. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, and they just held one another for a moment, naked flesh against flesh.

"Time to move forward," she said, still pressed against his shoulder, not quite ready to pull back from the warmth.

She felt him nod. "Time to move forward," he repeated, holding her just a little tighter, unwilling to let go.


	3. Chapter 3

_"Love has taken me in, lifted my load_,  
_And in this empty place a wonder grows_.  
_I dream of some kind of peace I can hold up as true_,  
_I never knew anything about love before you."_

* * *

With her hand in his, Kate led him to the shower, the slightly exaggerated sway of her hips very much present. She glanced up at their reflection in the mirror to see his line of sight considerably lower than usual. "How's my ass, Castle?" She asked in amusement, stopping in her tracks.

He almost walked into her, not having anticipated her abrupt stop, too distracted by her ass to realize they were already in front of the glass-enclosed shower stall. He glanced up, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror. "Perfect," he replied.

His tone was sweeter than she had expected, and her heart fluttered in her chest. She hoped the day never came that his words no longer affected her.

She pulled the shower door open, her tongue poking out the corner of her lips as she adjusted the heat. She held a hand under the spray until the temperature became just right, trying not to be too distracted by his lips currently trailing wet, hot kisses up and down her long neck, or his tongue swiping over her flushed skin. Focusing on the task at hand, but unable to suppress the little shivers running through her from his touch, only once she was satisfied they would neither burn nor freeze did she step inside, tugging him in with her, and under the perfectly pressurized spray.

No sooner were they under the water, the door closed behind them, had he pressed her against the shower wall, her nipples grazing the cool, smooth surface. She rested her cheek against the wall, and her palms pressed flat on either side of her head to stabilize her. Her mouth fell open, her eyes closed, at the sensations of his fingers pressing into her hips, his lips on her neck once again.

His hands left her hips, and rested over her own hands, holding them in place as he trailed hot kisses up to her ear, her jaw, her cheek, back down to her neck again, her shoulder. His body pressed her flush against the wall, her breasts flat against the tiles.  
She was out of the main jet of water, but his body kept her warm. Water dripped down her face, down her back, from her hair, and he kissed each droplet of water as his lips found them.

"I love you, Kate," he whispered into her ear, and she slumped slightly at his words, her knees almost giving out. The love and affection in his tone almost ending her.

"I might never get used to hearing that," she admitted softly, her voice almost inaudible over the spray of the water.

"I hope you never do," he replied.

_I love you. _

_Always._

It didn't matter what words they used - how they said it - because this was real.

He slid a hand down from hers, down the wall, until it came to rest on her leg. Raising it up, he pressed her knee against the wall, and she raised up on the ball of her other foot to give her just a little more height. Pressing his hard length against her, he adjusted his position just slightly until the tip of him was pressing between her folds. Another slight shift in angle, and he was pushing inside her.

She inhaled, held the breath, as he entered her. She wasn't as wet as she had been the night before, and the water had removed most of the lingering external moisture, so she was a little less slick, a little tighter. She relaxed her muscles and raised her leg just a little higher to aid him.

When she encased him completely, she marveled at the feel of him inside her. The position allowed him to hit places he hadn't the previous night, and he felt deeper, and hit her just a little sharper - and it felt amazing.

She pushed her hips back, her palms still flat against the wall but her body no longer pressed so tightly to it. Her nipples brushed the wall, and she lowered her leg now that they were joined. In doing so she knew how much tighter she would feel to him, and she heard him inhale shakily, felt his body shudder slightly, at the friction just shifting position created.

"God, Kate," he said between clenched teeth. "I won't last long like this."

"That's okay," she assured him breathlessly.

He groaned then, a different type of groan, one that signified he was dreading the conversation they were about to have. "You trust me, right?"

She nodded, swallowing a lump forming in her throat. "You know I do." She knew it was taking every ounce of restraint he had not to move within her as he spoke.

"Want me to go get something?"

"Castle," she breathed his name out. "I trust that you're not keeping anything from me."

He moved his head just a little closer to her ear. "You're on the pill, right?"

She chuckled, her body shaking as she did so, the movement causing him to shift within her, making her gasp.

"That's a yes, then," he replied hoarsely as he struggled to keep his control, and not thrust like he'd almost just involuntarily done.

"Yes."

With him inside her like this she knew she wasn't thinking as rationally as she should be, she knew she wasn't quite sticking to her guns like she had earlier, but she felt safe with him, trusted him like she had trusted no man previously.

He wouldn't lie to her about such things.

Standing tall on the balls of her feet, she pressed her palms even more firmly against the shower wall to keep from slipping. Her legs were separated just far enough for him to nestle snugly between them, but no more. She rotated her hips, and grinned back at him over her shoulder.

_Move, Castle. Now._

It was silent, but the message was received.

He eased out of her, and she was slicker now, her body having responded to him within her. The position still made for a delicious tightness, and she knew this would be a short session, knew he would struggle to stay in control.

As the steam from the shower rose around them, he raised her leg up and maneuvered it behind her, like a dancer twirling, holding it close to his hip. The muscles in her thigh tightened, gripping around his hip, giving her some semblance of stability, when her other foot threatened to slip on the cool, smooth, shower floor. But she held her balance, kept herself upright, her palms on the wall aiding in her quest to not slide to the floor in a boneless heap.

As he thrust into her, she pushed back, and while the rhythm faltered occasionally as the passion grew, they managed to keep it going, and kept the position working for them. With each backwards motion she rotated her hips just slightly, just enough for his breath to hitch, and she occasionally clenched her muscles, just enough to elicit noises from him she had never heard before.

She wouldn't orgasm, and that was okay. She didn't need to. While the feeling of him inside her was building a tension that was almost bringing her to her knees, she sensed that in the heat of the shower, surrounded by the steam, neither could keep the rhythm going long enough to bring her release. This time it wouldn't be as quick to wash over her like it had the night before. It didn't matter, not when he felt this good. And just having him inside her, just being at a place now where they could sleep with one another, was more than enough for now, more than she had expected so soon.

His pace quickened, and she heard his breath become shorter, little grunts leaving his lips as he pounded into her from behind. God, he was so hard, and neither were holding back. It grew frantic, wild, and she had to drop her leg to be able to push back against him just as heavily as he was pushing into her.

She might not come, but she could damn well help him with his release.

With her leg down, now tighter around him, she clenched, unclenched her muscles, moved her hips, and gave it her all.

A fleeting thought of _I trust him_ flew through her mind, but he seemed to sense her slight discomfort - perhaps sharing it - and just when his thrusts became short to the point he was barely pulling out at all, he pulled out completely, suddenly, and crushed his front to her back. He embraced her, his arms around her waist, holding her tight, as a groan from somewhere low in his throat sounded against her ear, and a warmth, not from the shower spray, hit her skin, diffused across her back.

She pressed her forehead against the shower wall, trying to regain her breath in the heat of the water, of the moment. She could feel his own breath against her ear, the side of her face.

She felt him straighten, move back a little. The spray of the water was diverted, until she felt it running down her back. "Stay there," he murmured in her ear, and a moment later she felt the slickness of soapy hands on her back, massaging, soothing, cleaning her.

Kate pushed herself away from the shower wall, standing on less-than-steady legs while his hands continued to work their way across her back, sweeping her hair aside to gently massage her upper back, neck, shoulders. She sighed and leaned back into him. He worked her muscles, his fingers digging firmly, kneading, and then smoothing across her skin.

His hands moved lower, becoming less soapy, until the water had removed all traces of the soap from both his skin and hers. She felt them trail down her spine, dancing over each bump, following the curve, lower and lower until one hand moved around to her stomach - and dipped yet lower still. She braced a hand against the wall again as he brushed a finger across her clit. She shuddered from his touch; her over-sensitized body responded to every sweep of his fingers, every circular motion, even just to his breath as she felt it ghost across her skin, and it gave her goose bumps.

"You cold?" He asked softly, his mouth close to her ear.

She shook her head, swallowed, tried to form words as her legs began to shake slightly, and her knees threatened to fail her.

"Want me to stop?"

He was teasing her now, and she could only respond as she had earlier, a weak shake of her head as her breathing came out in short gasps. He knew just where to touch her, how to touch her. Only she would be able to bring herself to orgasm quicker with her own hands, but even he was giving her a run for her money right now. She was close.

His other hand brushed down her thigh, teased her low between her legs, before two long fingers entered her, the fingers on her clit not pausing or losing their rhythm for even a second.  
She felt him cross his fingers within her, felt them push up ever higher, find that spot, and apply pressure. He didn't thrust his fingers, like she expected, but vibrated them inside her, applying pressure right where she needed it.

A soft exhale of breath, almost a whimper, left her lips as his fingers withdrew, leaving her feeling empty and cold and frustrated, and just moments from release. His lips dropped hot, open-mouthed kisses across her shoulder, trailing a line of love up to her neck. She tilted her head to allow him better access, his lips a poor substitute for his fingers inside her, but better than nothing.

"Castle." His name left her lips as she exhaled, her frustration from being wound so tight, only to be left on the verge of release, evident in her tone.

Whatever his hands had been busy with became apparent as the direction of the shower stream shifted again, and the sound of the water hitting the shower floor became louder. She turned her head to see what he was up to, saw his hand adjusting the control on the wall, heard the decrease in pressure, felt the cooler drops hitting her flushed skin.

And then she almost slid down the wall to her knees as the spray from the shower was directed between her legs.

She pushed her hips back, towards him, her palms and breasts pressed flat against the wall. He eased three fingers deep inside her, while his other hand slipped in between her thigh and the shower wall. He positioned the detachable showerhead so that the spray hit her directly, rotating his wrist to stimulate her with nothing but pressurized water on exactly the right spot.

She let out a soft moan, her fingers almost clawing at the smooth tiles, trying to cling to the slippery surface to keep her on her feet. Unrelenting warm needles of pleasure hit her, rotating around her, moving closer to increase the pressure, then pulling back to ease off.

The water, his touch, it was all too much. The tension built swiftly, hit that glorious peak, and then she let the release take over. Her muscles contracted around his fingers, and she shuddered as she slumped forward. The only things keeping her on her feet now were the shower wall before her, and his fingers pressing into her thigh, as he held the nozzle steady.

Catching her breath, his fingers eased out of her, and she heard the sound of the metal showerhead being put back in place.

With his arms now circling around her, he eased her back completely under the spray of the water. The water was lukewarm now, but it was perfect, exactly what she needed to bring her body temperature down and help them both cool off a little.

She turned in his arms once she was sure her legs would hold her up, rose up on her toes, and pressed her lips to his. She kissing him with everything she had, more emotion coming out in just the movement of her lips against his than she had anticipated.

Secrets were out, and all was forgiven; they found their peace with one another, and nothing - no one - could touch them here.

* * *

**AN: Full credit for the detachable showerhead goes to Brookemopolitan (Go read her fantastic "Her Mirror and her opposite" if you're not already!). You, my dear, are brilliant. _  
_**

_Reviews are love :-)_


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